


An Exercise in Higher Education

by gimmicks



Series: Reaper76 Week 2017 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 8ams are a bitch trust me dont take them, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Young Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, also abstract algebra is really hard so rip jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmicks/pseuds/gimmicks
Summary: Jack meets a hot guy in his math class. He is, understandably, flustered by not just the guy's unbearable attractiveness, but also his proficiency and interest in math.He's fucked.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for Reaper76 Week 2017 under the prompt "In Another Life" - Alternate Universes / Timelines.

When Jack was little, he thought himself an early riser; he would awaken at the crack of dawn, pulling on his clothes and running out of his house into the street to play, or collect worms, or watch the cars pass down his road. In the summer, when the night chill had cooled the sunbaked pavement, he would run through the door with a t-shirt and shorts on, no shoes, and dig his feet into the ground, wiggling his toes and savoring the feel of the soft earth underneath them. In the winter, when the snow piled high and the sky glowed purple, his mother would intercept him on his mad dash out of his house, wrestling a coat over his head and gloves onto his hands before he ran outside to play. The mornings were his favorite times – he could play without the watchful eyes of the street, and if he wanted, he could sit and watch as the town awakened, bedroom lights flicking on and showers running steamy.

 

Now, he decides, as his alarm blares sharp tones at his blanket-wrapped body, he is definitely _not_ a morning person.

 

He wriggles a hand out of his blanket cocoon, lazily switching off the alarm. As he begins the tedious process of extracting himself from his hive of warmth, he ponders the whims of the gods – specifically whichever one decided it would be a fantastic idea to stick him in Abstract Algebra at 8 in the goddamn morning.

 

The blankets finally come untangled, falling to pool at his ankles. He tosses them back on the bed; he’ll make it later. His towel is flung over his desk chair, reminding him of the need for hygiene. Raising his arm, he takes a whiff of his pit; the stench is so strong he physically recoils. Definitely a shower, then. He snags the towel after tearing his shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. The rest of his clothes follow shortly. Even after only three days, he notices, his laundry is piling up. It’s going to be a rough semester.

 

Towel around his waist and caddy in his hand, he trudges into the bathroom. The shower water starts up; he sets his kit down on the bench before slipping inside the curtained area. The water, as always, hits his skin in a burning flash, turning the broad expanse of his chest blood-red. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over the scalded flesh, and sets to work.

 

He washes quickly – being late for his first class would be downright embarrassing, even at eight in the morning. As he reopens the door to his room, hair hanging wetly in his eyes, he looks at the clock.

 

_7:51._

 

_Shit._

 

Flying across the room, he flings open his dresser drawer, yanking out a set of dubiously clean clothes and pulling them on. His backpack is forcefully displaced from its spot, swinging in a wide arc across his room as he slings it onto his back. The laces of his shoes are hastily tied – god, he hopes he doesn’t trip on his way – and rockets out of his room without a backwards glance.

 

The campus is fairly small, so he wasn’t sure of the necessity of scouting it out the day beforehand, but, as he sprints to class, he’s glad he did. His feet pound the pavement, backpack bouncing up and down, as he makes a beeline for the stout building he recognizes as the math and science hub. Skidding through the door, he runs down a long hall, checking room numbers to the slightly crumpled schedule he holds in a death grip.

 

Finally, he finds the room. He checks his phone: 7:58. His body sags as he lets out a sigh, shouldering open the door to enter the class.

 

His class is really small; the school is an agriculture-focused campus with only a few thousand students, so it’s not surprising a high-level mathematics course is going to be nearly vacant. It seems like most of the students are already there; it seems like nearly a dozen of them are scattered through the lecture hall’s seats. He picks his way down the aisles, observing the faces of his new classmates.

 

Most of the students seem like typical ag majors, small-town students mostly from the surrounding area. Hell, one guy’s wearing a tattered pair of overalls over his sweater – he doesn’t think the guy could get much closer to looking like a farmer if he tried. However, as he nears the front row, scanning the isle for somewhere to deposit himself, he locks eyes with a man who is definitely _not_ from around here.

 

He’s wearing what looks like one of those big-ass scarves that them city-slickers wear over a tight leather jacket pulled straight from the set of _Grease._ A gray beanie is pulled snug over his hair, but Jack can see a few brown curls poking out from the front, and he is possessed by the desire to see the man’s full head of hair. One of his brows is raised, mouth slanted in a small smirk, and Jack realizes he’s been staring for some time.

 

He feels his cheeks heat, and he coughs awkwardly, sliding into the seat next to the guy. Their arms brush; Jack feels like a child again when the touch sends shivers up his spine. He turns in his seat, prepared to introduce himself, but the door in the front of the room slams open, and a woman strolls in. Her braid flows behind her, long and silver in the harsh lighting of the hall. She carries a stack of books and a computer, which she deposits on the lectern before looking up at the class of students.

 

“Hello, class. My name is Professor Amari; welcome to abstract algebra. I’m sure you are all looking forward to this class” – a stifled chuckle from the warm body next to him – “and as such, we will begin quickly. First, a quick roll call.”

 

She begins listing off names, and he hears quiet shouts of “here” from behind him. When his own name is called, he lets out a half-hearted shout himself before leaning back in his chair.

 

“Gabriel Reyes?”

 

The guy next to him shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter.

 

“Present.”

 

Gabriel, Jack thinks. Nice name; he’ll be sure to remember it.

 

As he settles in, listening to the beginning of Amari’s lecture, he feels the urge to peek over and look at Gabriel. At first he holds it at bay, tells himself that set theory is definitely more important than ogling the hot guy sitting next to him. However, his curiosity gets the best of him, once again, and he turns his head marginally to sneak a peek.

 

Gabriel is enraptured with the material; his pencil flies across the paper as he takes lightning-fast notes, capturing what Jack assumes is every word of what the professor says. His tongue pokes out between his full lips, and his eyes dart between the board and his notebook, pinpricks of focus. Jack can’t help but admire the man’s concentration and apparent fondness for math – as a math major himself, he is delighted to find the man is actually _interested_ in the subject.

 

He shakes his head out of his thoughts, goes back to taking notes; even with a hot, math-loving dude right next to him, he still needs to focus on passing his classes.

 

\----------

 

“Alright, class, that’s it for today! Remember, we meet next on Thursday, the schedule’s a bit off, so don’t wake yourself up early on Wednesday and come here expecting a lecture!”

 

The class gives an awkward chuckle, and Amari waves them towards the exit. “Now go, I have planning to do! Enjoy the rest of your first day.” She turns and begins gathering her things, and Jack picks up his bag, heading for the exit. Before he can get far, however, a hand lands on his shoulder, spinning him around and putting him in direct view of one Gabriel Reyes.

 

Gabriel is smirking, his messenger bag slung across his shoulders and his other hand stuck in the pocket of his tight-fitting jeans. “Hey, Morrison, right? Didn’t get to introduce myself earlier; Gabriel Reyes.”

 

A hand is thrust into the space between them, and he takes it with a shaky grip. “Uh, hi. Yeah, it’s- it’s Jack. Jack Morrison.” He feels his cheeks heat. “You can call me Jack though.”

 

Gabriel’s smirk blooms into a full-on grin, stretching the proportions of his face. “Well, in that case, you can call me Gabriel. Or anything you want, for that matter.” Sleazy grin still stretched out across his face, he throws Jack a wink, whirling past him towards the exit.

 

Jack is stunned into silence; his hand is still outstretched into where Gabriel once stood, he realizes, quickly pulling it back and rushing to catch up. “So, Gabe,” he starts. “What brings you to the campus?”

 

Gabriel snorts. “Needed a change of pace. Fast-paced city life is nice, but it can be overwhelming.”

 

“Ooh, a city boy – fascinating. Where are you from, exactly?”

 

“Los Angeles.” That would explain the style. “It’s very… different here.”

 

A laugh bubbles up from Jack’s throat. “Yeah, a country town like this can be hard on people. You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”

 

They walk in companionable silence for a few seconds, before Jack realizes his schedule still applies. He rips it out of his pocket, unfolding and scanning the time slots to see when his next class is. After reconfirming the 10:00 time, he folds the paper up carefully and tucks it back in his pocket.

 

“So, what class are you headed to next?”

 

A momentary look of panic crosses Gabriel’s face, and he pulls out his phone, tapping in the code and scrolling through whatever page he has opened. His visage relaxes, however, when he finds whatever it was he was looking for.

 

“It should be Shakespeare at 10, unless my schedule got messed up during the transfer.”

 

Surprise ripples through his brain. “Hey, I have Shakespeare at 10 as well! Who do you have it with?”

 

“Uh, it says here it’s with Dr. Wilhelm in CH1600. You know where that is?”

 

Jack cannot believe his luck. “Yeah, I do; in fact, I’ll be heading over at 10 myself.”

 

“Guess we have another class together, huh?” He can hear Gabriel’s smile in his voice, and the happiness is contagious – a matching grin blossoms on his own.

 

“Guess so. I’m a lucky man.”

 

As he pushes open the door to the outside, Gabriel following closely behind, Jack can’t help but be optimistic.

 

It’s gonna be a good year.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 3 hours late but nothing matters so thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm a fairly new writer, and this is unbetaed, so if you see any errors or want to offer constructive criticism, feel free to leave a comment or shoot me an ask over on my [tumblr.](http://actualfatherjackmorrison.tumblr.com)
> 
> A lot of the inspiration for the campus Jack and Gabe are at is derived from my current campus, so that's pretty cool.
> 
> Maybe I'll write more of this in the future? I don't really know how I feel about it yet so we'll see.


End file.
